


Do It Like That

by momothespicy (momothesweet)



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe, Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, F/M, Female Ejaculation, Fluff and Smut, Lace, Overstimulation, Reader-Insert, Smut, Tailor!Gabriel, The Great British Bake Off References, Theater Teacher!Reader, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Wet & Messy, implications of tiktok
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:56:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28304169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/momothesweet/pseuds/momothespicy
Summary: Gabriel turns a bad day into a better one with a handmade gift.
Relationships: Reaper | Gabriel Reyes/Reader
Comments: 11
Kudos: 67





	Do It Like That

**Author's Note:**

> IT'S A CHRISTMAS MIRACLE
> 
> I'M ALIVE
> 
> And I hope you all enjoy this fic. I'm Very Tired but I'm still kicking and I'm still very grateful for the continued support. Have a little Gabriel romp! I really haven't consumed a bunch of new things in the past several months so I went back to my favorite Overwatch man...
> 
> Sort of a follow up to [All I Ask of You](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24419773), but this can be read as a standalone!

You pour yourself another glass of wine. The first two weren’t enough to erase today’s failures at work. As you sink into the couch, glass in one hand, bottle in the other, you whine and let the horrible highlights replay in your head. They say kids can’t get to you because you’re older and supposed to be more mature, but words still hurt.

“They’re teenagers, babe,” Gabriel says, pulling the needle away from the lace fabric. “Everyone says dumb shit when they’re young.”

“But they’re smart. Vulgar, but smart,” you defend. “Maybe they’re right about me.”

“Are you really going to take the words of sixteen-year-olds to heart?”

“Maybe. Maybe I could just crawl in a hole and die.”

“You’re being dramatic.”

“I teach drama, Gabe, that’s my job!”

More whining follows, plus more wine. You take another drink and stare at the TV, trying to consume more content to replace the bad thoughts. A contestant experiences a problem with their underproved dough and time is running out. The hosts stare them all down humorously and the music intensifies. Gabriel snips the thread and pulls it away from the needle. The garment sits atop his lap, and he places his free hand on your thigh.

“You’re not a ‘cringe queen,’ or whatever they said,” he reassures you. “You were just trying to relate to them and it didn’t work.”

He’s not wrong. For the most part. If there’s anything you’d like to take away from the day, it’s that you’re getting way too old to try those internet dances. If anything, you should have shown the students the stuff you learned growing up. You finish your glass and set it aside with the bottle, cuddling up to him as the contestant miraculously finishes their focaccia with a second left to spare. You glance down at Gabriel’s lap, toying with the lace.

“You’ve been working on this for three days and you still haven’t told me what it’s for.”

“I told you, it’s for you.”

“That doesn’t tell me what it’s for.”

“Do you think I’m sewing lace for dinner and a movie?”

You pout. “Anything is possible.”

Gabriel huffs, placing the garment over your face and pinching your nose. “Put it on for me. Maybe it’ll make you feel better.”

You pull away and sit back, grabbing the garment to hold it out and see what exactly he’s been putting together. To your surprise (though it shouldn’t be a surprise knowing his talents), it’s a dress. Upon further inspection, though, you know it’s not some department store cocktail dress for a brunch date. If you put this on, you’re going to need to wear lingerie underneath it. Or, better yet, nothing at all.

Eyes wide, you shoot your gaze to him. “Gabe?”

He smirks. “You’ve been stressed out all semester. Thought I’d make something nice for you. And me.”

“Mostly for you.”

Gabriel says your name. 

You shake your head, defeated, then give him a kiss. “Thanks.”

“Mhm. Go change. I’ll tell you who gets eliminated.”

You kiss him again and rise from the couch, padding off to the bedroom so you can strip away your clothing, and slip on the dress. Of course, Gabriel knows every part of your body, down to the millimeter. It’s a tiny piece absolutely meant for the bedroom. Or the couch, if he’s impatient. Without wearing anything else, you wonder how he’ll keep it together when he sees you in his creation. You stare at yourself in the mirror, then turn around to peek at your bare back and the way the lace barely covers your ass. One last glance at how the lace stretches deliciously over your chest, nipples clearly on display through the lace.

All in all, you look pretty damn good. Years of unsavory self-esteem issues have long since dissipated thanks to some encouragement and love from your partner. It hasn’t been easy by any means, and there are still times when you wish you could hide forever. Though, little gestures like gifting a handmade, sexy slip, makes a massive difference.

After a few more moments of feeling yourself, you step back out into the living room, right when the eliminated contestant expresses their gratefulness for being on the show. You block Gabriel’s view and stand up straight, presenting yourself like a model in his shop. You watch his gaze go from head to toe, pausing at all the right places. To tease him, you run your fingers up your thighs, over your hips and waist, and give your nipples a gentle pinch. He groans, nearly dropping your filled wine glass he was so graciously using while you were gone.

“Baby,” he mutters thickly. “You like it?”

You nod. “You seem to like it, too.”

He beckons you. “Come here. Lemme get a closer look.”

Obeying, you make yourself comfortable on his lap, leaning forward and giving him a slow kiss. It’s much-needed, along with his large hands running up your thighs and grabbing a firm hold of your ass. One tight squeeze and you moan against him.

Gabriel pulls back and curses, “Fuck. It was worth making this by hand.”

Part of you wonders why in the world he chose to not use a sewing machine for this. That’s a thought for later since you’re very occupied with the obvious bulge in Gabriel’s sweatpants. You roll your hips and moan again for him. One of the thin straps of the dress falls over your shoulder, inviting Gabriel to plant his mouth onto one of your breasts, lifting you up by your ass so he can lick your nipples over the lace. He takes his time giving your chest all the love in the world, ensuring that you’re so hot and bothered that you tremble for even more.

“Gabe,” you whimper, “please.”

He responds by lifting you suddenly and carrying you to the bedroom. You fall onto soft sheets that are now miraculously as soft as Gabriel’s sheets when you first spent the night with him. Laundering techniques aside, he hovers over you, getting his fingers immediately between your legs to rub your clit. The sudden stimulation draws out a loud cry from you, hands scrambling to his back for purchase. It doesn’t take much for you to get wet for Gabriel. Tonight is no different.

As he slips a finger inside you, he chuckles, “Did you play with yourself earlier? You’re so wet.”

You shake your head. “I—mm—I’m always wet for you.”

“That’s what I like to hear.” He pumps his finger in and out, rubbing your clit with his thumb at the same time. You pull down the dress far enough to free your tits, squeezing and playing with your nipples as you begin to lose yourself. 

When you think he’s about to curl his fingers, he pulls them out suddenly and you whine in protest. “No, please—”

“Shh.” Gabriel strips down to nothing, showing off his rock hard cock. “I’ll take care of you, baby. You know I always do.”

You’re silenced when Gabriel approaches you again. He flips you easily onto your stomach, massaging your sides and squeezing your ass. His cock slides between your cheeks, then slowly, deliciously stretches your cunt when he pushes it inside you. Clutching the sheets, you moan his name, lifting your ass towards him as lust takes over your entire being.

“That’s right. Take all of it. You’re mine.”

He pulls out to the tip, then snaps his hips back to make you scream. You’re so wet and warm and Gabriel grabs your hips to fuck you properly. Every inch of his cock drives you into a frenzy, forgetting everything you know save for him and only him. The lace sits unceremoniously around your waist, bouncing with the rest of your body. You move on your own, throwing your ass back to hit the base of his cock. Gabriel smacks your ass and you squeeze around him.

“Oh my god,” you moan. “Feels so good—”

“You like that?” Gabriel asks, smacking your ass again. “I want you coming all over these sheets.”

He’s going to make good on that promise. Angling himself perfectly, Gabriel hits that sweet spot, skin slapping against yours while you writhe with pleasure. All he has to do is reach under you to rub your clit, fingertips working expertly to help you see stars and heavens above.

You come with a loud cry, soaking his cock, hair, and skin. He buries himself inside you, feels the way you clench around him. Your body trembles and you catch your breath, but it catches when he pulls out suddenly and tosses you onto your back, plunging back inside and gripping your lace-covered waist. While your body tries to recover from your first orgasm, Gabriel keeps going to chase his own. You arch your back and hang onto the sheets, unable to stop the heat through your veins.

His skin brushing against your clit with each thrust is more than enough for you to get closing to coming again. You’re already dripping onto the sheets and your legs work on their own to try and wrap around his large frame. Soon enough, he pumps his come into you, creating a sticky mess you can’t acknowledge yet thanks to his rough groans and his thumb back on your clit.

“Come again for me, baby. I know you can give me more.”

You can and you will. Nothing that comes out of your mouth makes sense as you come again, gushing fluid when Gabriel pulls out and keeps you stimulated. Your legs rattle and your torso twists sideways, coming right to the edge of pain. You bat his fingers away when it gets too much, mumbling broken curses and incoherent pleas. Gabriel breathes heavily above you, waiting a moment before stumbling out of bed to head for the bathroom.

When the fog in your brain clears, you shimmy out of your dress and reach for Gabriel, returning with two towels. The dry one covers up the wet sheets that’ll be changed anyway later tonight, while the damp one helps with the mess between your legs and his. After the post-coital pleasantries, Gabriel lies at your side and brings you to his chest. Featherlight fingers dust over your spine and you could fall right asleep if you weren’t so busy kissing him.

“Feeling better?” he asks.

You snort, hiding your face in his chest. “We went through all that to make me feel better about being called a cringe cunt?”

He pauses and stares at you dead in the eyes. “They called you that?”

“Weren’t you listening to what I told you when you got here? Or were you too busy hand-sewing my lingerie?”

“It was a labor of love,” he says. “Sewing lace is hard.”

You grumble. “So is putting up with a bunch of wannabe internet stars who dance and roast everyone between rehearsals.”

He makes a noise of disapproval, then kisses you again. “I’m sorry, baby. You don’t deserve that.”

“I know,” you sigh. “Last year was so much nicer compared to this bunch. We sang and destroyed a chandelier…”

“I made you squirt for the first time.”

You smack his chest, giggling. “Gabriel!”

“And I did it a few more times after that, in the shower,” he continues, laughing with you. “If it makes you feel any better, you’re my cringe queen.”

“Don’t call me that.”

His fingers that have been teasing your spine reach your ass, resting innocently there. “Ah. You prefer ‘baby’ instead. Or my ‘good little slut,’ when you’re feeling extra needy.”

Your cheeks burn, and you can’t even argue with him. “What I need is a shower. And some bread. I’m hungry.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he says, letting you go to sit up and stretch in bed. “I’m not about to bake any fancy focaccia. You want pizza instead?”

You turn to lie on your back and look up at him. Agreeing to pizza, you list out your favorite toppings and sit up slowly. “Thank you.”

“Mhm. Love you.” Gabriel kisses the top of your head. “Come on. Let’s get you in the shower.” 

You gladly climb into his open arms so he can carry you to the bathroom. As you return the sweet words back to him, you revel in how lucky you are to have a man like Gabriel. Brash and gentle all at once, there’s no denying all the love you have for this man. Nobody else would put in the extra effort of fucking you senseless in the dress he made himself to make you feel better after a bad day. Everything he does for you is laced with sincerity and love.

**Author's Note:**

> I wish everyone a safe, healthy holiday season, and a better new year. Sending love to all of you and here's to more writing in the future!  
> Special thanks to [kelbivdevoe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kelbivdevoe) for spending 20 years with me trying to come up with a title.  
> 
> 
> Thank you for reading! Comments, kudos, feedback and a well-baked garlic parmesan focaccia are greatly appreciated. <3
> 
> [Tumblr](https://peachofwork.tumblr.com/)


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